


Cave Canem

by Thelittlescrimshaw



Category: Labyrinth
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 12:43:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6329701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thelittlescrimshaw/pseuds/Thelittlescrimshaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She never meant to tame him - that had never been her intention. Jareth/Sarah.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cave Canem

**Little Jareth/Sarah ficlet.**

**M for vague sex.**

* * *

She had never meant to tame him – that had never been her intention.

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When he was in the human world, he often found himself watching the mortals, stalking them as if they were prey.  There were few who truly piqued his interest.

He was profoundly bored with humanity.

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She was an intrigue, a shiny, not-so-new thing, and absolutely delicious when she was angry. She was sharp as a tack and didn’t allow him to steamroll over her. Her buttons were far too easy to push, but she’d push his right back.

He found himself seeking out her company. She was intelligent, and refreshing, and so wonderfully, terribly mortal.

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At twenty, she was ravishing: more full-bodied than she’d been as a teen, but still willowy and graceful. She reminded Jareth of a swan – or more appropriately, a minx.

“Didn’t think I’d see _you_ again,” she remarked when he showed up at her apartment. Hoggle looked guiltily away behind her.

“The Labyrinth gets awfully dull this time of year,” he said, giving a small almost-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “And you and I, dear Sarah, have unfinished business.”

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She had not forgiven him for what he’d done in the Labyrinth, but she understood. The ways of fey were different than the ways of men; Jareth was merely following his nature, just as she was following hers. 

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They would sit on the rooftops and look at the stars; she was fascinated by them, and he would indulge her. He once found himself with his head in her lap; another time, she had leaned against his side, asleep.

It was then that he found himself craving her touch.

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“You knows,” Hoggle said, once, “The King doesn’t just drop by. He has an agenda.”

Sarah brushed him off, but Sir Didymus chimed in, “Oh, yes, the King is _most_ infatuated with you!”

 _That_ got her thinking.

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From then on she was more aware: of the glance, of the small touches, of the favors and niceties.

And she was terrified and thrilled all the same.

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“Why _are_ you here,” she asked at last, the words Jareth had been waiting to hear.

“The Labyrinth,” he said. “You are almost of age, are you not?”

She frowned. “I was eighteen years ago, but…”

“The Fey consider twenty-one to be of age – for a regnant.

“Me? A – a regnant?”

Jareth nodded. It was a blow to his pride to admit, but it had to be done. “You defeated me in the Labyrinth; the Labyrinth recognizes your power to rule. I am bound by blood and by bone, but you are bound to it by words.”

She rounded on him. “You are _not_ just going to – to spirit me away because –“

Jareth couldn’t help himself; he laughed. “Nonsense, luv. But we will need to work out a contract. I can’t have you wreaking havoc on my city unknowingly.”

“And here I thought,” she grumbled, “That you were just being nice.”

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,

The first time they fucked it was in his suite, all heat and sweat and need. He had invited her back, words laced with poison-sweet implications. And she – she had agreed, and walked right into the lion’s den. He looked at her, eyes half-lidded; to dispel the tension, she asked if he could unclasp the necklace that she wore: it was a charm, one she needed if she wanted to get home.

And he did; he hooked a finger under the chain, dragging a knuckle across her neck and sending a shiver down her spine, and made quick work of the clasp, pressing a chaste kiss to the back of her neck.

Sarah turned around, and kissed him not-so-chastely; he guided them back to his bed. She had her knees on either side of him, felt him pressed against her.  

His bed was luxurious and his touch was hot. He hiked up her skirt, one hand hovering over her underwear, teasing, and another up her shirt, running a thumb over her breast. She gasped when his finger found her clit, and in return, bit at the curve of his neck.

“My dear Sarah,” he said, humor coloring his tone. “Don’t tell me that’s the best you can do.”

And that was all the encouragement she needed.

After, as Jareth fell asleep, she looked at the bruises on his neck and the love bites on her hip, and she fled.

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She stood on the precipice of a stupid decision, gazing into the abyss that lay before her.

Of course, that was all metaphorical. In reality, Sarah stood on her doorstep, and she was looking at Jareth. The Goblin King looked incensed, and a frenetic energy was rolling off him in waves.

“I – hello, can I help you?”

This wasn’t the first time he showed up on her doorstep, and this certainly wouldn’t be the last, but this was different. He said nothing, but stepped forward; Sarah sidestepped to let him in, shutting the door behind her.

He sat at her kitchen table, declining her offer of tea with a wave of his hand. When he spoke, his words were sharp and his voice was rough. “I’m done with your games.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Games?”

“Don’t play stupid, luv. It doesn’t work for you.”

And, filled with disgust, Sarah left her own apartment, both unable and unwilling to have the discussion that Jareth was pushing upon her.

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The sex was good – the sex had always been good – but it wasn’t worth being strung out over.

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It wasn’t fucking, and it wasn’t lovemaking; he would ravage her senseless and she would return the favor. He would feel her heartbeat against his ribcage; he would leave marks on her neck, her hips, her breasts. She would moan and breathe into the dip of his neck, hips bucking under him, nails leaving welts on his back.

After, he would push her hair behind her ear and plant a chaste kiss to the back of her neck and wrap an arm around her waist. She would turn into him and entangle their legs together, sigh a soft “goodnight” and drift off to sleep. Sometimes she would leave, but he vastly preferred the nights she stayed.

.

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And more than that, he preferred the nights when she’d wake him up, hand around his length, teeth on his neck, her sex already slick with want. Sarah was a veritable she-wolf of desire and he – well.

Who was he to deny her, who had an appetite fit for a queen?

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“What do you _want_ from me,” she asked, desperate, unsure, distraught. He had remained in her apartment after she’d left; he was still seated at her kitchen table. Now he stood across from her, arms crossed, teeth bared. She did not fear him, not really, not anymore, but it was moments like these that brought the harsh reminder: he was not mortal, was not human, was not even a man, not really. He was a dream, a nightmare, a monster, King of his own domain.

If he wanted to hurt her, there was very little she could do to stop him.

But he had no power over her. Not now, not in bed, and certainly not in the Labyrinth. She was not twenty-one yet, but her birthday was approaching.

He didn’t reply; regardless, she went on. “You – I’m not toying with you. There isn’t any _game._ If you are under any false impressions, Jareth, that’s your own damn fault. I didn’t – “

“Nothing,” he said at last. Sarah’s annoyance at being interrupted came second to her confusion.

“There is nothing I want from you,” he said, voice unnervingly calm. He stalked up to her, placed a gloved hand on her cheek. “Nothing at all.”

“Good,” she snapped, stepping out of his touch. “Now get out of my apartment.”

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He tried to court her; he took her out for dinner, once, as the mortals he observed often did. He was a perfect gentleman, too. On the way home, he pointed out the winter constellations. The girl had a fascination with stars, one he was keen to indulge. He would move them for her, if she only asked.

Her she was, the most powerful mortal girl in existence; she had a king bowing to her whim, and she scarcely knew it.

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He would display the love bites proudly; no one in his court dared question him.

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When he asked her to be his queen, after fifty-two nights spent together, after countless nights spent apart, and after nine months of courting her, she told him she didn’t know.

He did not take kindly to that sentiment.

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Sarah had no idea that she was being courted, and she couldn’t help but feel like a fool.

 _More like,_ her conscious whispered at her, _a sacrificial lamb._

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The fight was a bad one, filled with vitriol and words sharp enough to cut.

“You leave. You hide. You are _infuriating.”_

“You’re _confusing!_ You – you came onto _me. You_ made it casual. You - I don’t _have_ to do anything, Jareth!”

“No,” he shot back, venom dripping from his words, “Why would you owe me the courtesy of _being there in the morning.”_

“Because I have a _life_! I live outside of the Labyrinth! My home is here! You’re – you were supposed to stay in my childhood. You were never supposed to – _this_ has already gone far enough.”

There was a thick, pregnant silence.  Sarah shut her eyes, and when she looked up, Jareth was gone.

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“Is the thought of being my Queen,” he said, voice low, “Really so repulsive?”

He asks her this on one rare occasion where she chooses to stay; they’re in her room, after all, and he is warm.

She was tracing the lines of his collarbones; her finger stopped short at the dip in his throat. The darkness hid her blush, but it couldn’t hide her stillness.

“Sarah,” he said, hand coming up to clutch her own. His mismatched eyes were pleading with her.

“It’s…” she said, eyes downcast. “I…you’re not repulsive, Jareth. There’s not an inch of you that _is_ repulsive.” She tried to divert his attention; she clambers on top of him, breasts pressed against his chest.

Jareth sat up, clasping her hands in his own. “Sarah,” he repeated, and this was the first time that her naked body did not distract him. “Why do you run?”

“You said that you wanted nothing from me,” she told him. “There is nothing I have to give. But you want me to be Queen. You want me to come to the Labyrinth. You want me to give up my life here –“

 _“Sarah,”_ he breathed, “I want _everything.”_  
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As always, let me know your thoughts. 


End file.
